This week we're with Dante in the aftermath of taking Carlos as hostage. They are in a private jet flying back home. Carlos is locked away in the bedroom and Dante is sitting with Marshall who isn't pleased with his choice of hostage. Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~

Opening my eyes, I stared at my consigliere. Marshall never questioned my decisions. On the other
hand, I'd never deviated from a plan like I did today. So his concern proved
valid.

"You know you put yourself in a weaker position by
taking Carlos," he said. "Marcos was the more valuable hostage."

More valuable to The
Baron but not to me.

Disorientated for a
moment, breath locked in my throat. Carlos was valuable to me? Turning my gaze to the view as we flew above white clouds in bright sunshine, I mulled the idea over. Yes, I wanted him as
much as I wanted my next drink of water. Still, this showed to be more than a
physical ache. The boy had done something to me that no other lover had been able
to do. His presence soothed my restless spirit.

My gut tightened as I swallowed the realisation. My true
feelings for Carlos had to stay hidden.

In the New World sex between men was barely tolerated. Relationships
were a no-no. In the Cartels it was strictly forbidden. As a Cartel boss, I ran
a double risk. Not only did I have Carlos's father gunning for me. If my men
found out I had a soft spot for Carlos I would have mutiny on my hands. My
killer would be one of my men.

I stared at Marshall, concern etched on his tanned face as
he held my gaze. He'd been beside me from the time Don Pedro Montez found me picking
food outside his restaurant and took me in; first as my best friend and now as
my adviser. He knew of my proclivities. I trusted him with my life. Could I
trust him with this?

"I know it's not what we planned," I said with a
shrug. "But I went with my instincts and they've never failed me
before."

"Sure." He nodded, seemingly satisfied with my
explanation. "What do you want to do now?"

Last week we saw Dante (D) demand a hostage from Carlos's dad. In this week's tease, Carlos is realising that being D's slave/hostage isn't going to be a walk in the park. Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~

Marshall stood outside the car at alert, feet planted apart,
hand gun still in view. A little while later D walked out of my house. He said
something to Marshall and then got into the back seat with me, his fingers
padding across the screen of his phone. Marshall got into the front and the car
sped down my driveway and out through the gates.

Silence reigned. I squirmed in my seat, even more aware of
D's quiet presence. The side profile of his tousled midnight hair and day-old
bristles on his chin made him appear dangerous, even as his body leaned into
the soft leather seat. This man had stood up to my father and walked away. I
was in awe of him. My skin prickled, heat washed over me.

"I didn't pack a bag," I said, unsure of what else
to say.

"I'll provide what you need. Empty out your
pockets," D said in a monotone voice. "Give the items to
Marshall."

Hands shaking, I pulled out my wallet, sunglasses and phone
and handed them to the guy in the front passenger seat. I watched as he rifled
through my wallet first and then proceeded to dismantle my phone.

"Hey, that's my—"

"No," D said in a low, harsh voice as his hand
gripped my chin making me look up at his face. "You are my slave now which
means you own nothing. You belong to me for as long as I wish and everything
currently in your possession is mine. If you want the privilege of using any of
the items, you will have to earn it first. Am I clear?"

"I—I—"

"Am. I. Clear?"

"Yes, s-sir," my voice trembled.

This was a stricter version of the man I'd met two weeks ago. A man I didn't know very well. A stranger all over again.

Sunday, 17 May 2015

When Captain Hugh
Wilkes fell for his Afghan interpreter, Rustam Balkhi, he always knew things
would never be easy. After months of complete secrecy, their return to England
should have spelt an end to the sneaking around and the insane risks. But it
seems there are many obstacles for them to overcome before they can truly be happy
together. Can they get past those obstacles, or is this one battle too many for
their fledgling relationship?

Author’s note:
Although this story does work as a standalone tale, it’s recommended that you
read the first instalment of the characters’ journey first—Desert
Heat, which is available from all good retailers.

This week, I'm happy to announce that my short story Sicario, will appear in the Love Is An Open Road/Don't Read In The Closet Anthology coming out later this year. More on that later.

Today, we return to Carlos and Dante's story, Duce. Last time we saw them, Dante had a gun to Marcos's head in their living room (Marcos is Carlos's older brother). And Carlos had just found out Dante was a member of the cartels. You can read the scene again in this teaser.

This scene follows on directly. I hope you enjoy it. It's still a first draft so pardon any errors.
*Note, this is written in UK English.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"We both know that hell will freeze first before that
happens," D replied in a deep harsh voice I barely recognised filled with
menace.

"So why are you here?" Dad snapped.

"You issued a hit on my life. I want to know why?"

No! I sucked in a
sharp breath. Dad sent assassins after D. I flinched as if he'd delivered a
blow to me, leaning more of my weight against the ledge.

Why did my father want to kill D? Those photos of my sexual
encounters flashed through my mind. Although I hadn't seen one with D in it, it
was possible there was a glossy of the two of us somewhere in this house.

"I won't waste your time by trying to deny it,"
Dad said. "You knew that anything that belongs to me was off limits to
you, yet you chose my son. This was an insult to me."

Dad slammed his hand on the table top. I flinched at the loud
noise. My shoulders slumped. It was my fault. I had put a target on D. If I
hadn't manipulated him into sleeping with me, he wouldn't be in trouble with my
father.

Holding my breath, I expected D to spill the beans about
what had happened to exonerate himself.

"I take responsibility for my actions," D said,
shocking me even more. "It was never meant as an insult to you, Baron. But
now that you've drawn first blood, I'm obligated to retaliate."

In all their exchanges, D remained calm. How he could still
stay composed in spite of everything
baffled me. The man who stood with him hadn't said a word either.

My father's eyes widened. "What do you mean?"

"To ensure that you don't send more assassins after me,
I need insurance. I'll take your son as my hostage. My slave."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading and commenting.

Check out these Mid-Week Teasers.

- See more at: http://www.fortheloveofmen.co.uk/2015/04/a-man-as-brutal-and-deadly-as-father.html#sthash.LQKIgcAE.dpuf

Thank you for all your encouragements last week with my short story. I completed the story in time and submitted it. I'll let you know when I get some news.

In the meantime, I've got another teaser from the same story as last week. It is titled Sicario and it's a prequel to the Worlds End series.
In last week's tease, Lexan had just bought Enzo in a slave auction. This week, things are about to flip around between them.

I hope you enjoy it. It's still a first draft so pardon any errors.

I watched as Lexan stared out at the
ocean, the light breeze fluttering the hair across his face. He was a striking man,
with the high cheekbones and lush lips I've been craving to kiss. Not to
mention the trim athletic body beneath the linen shirt and trousers. A body I'd
encountered in several lusty dreams recently. Why would someone so young and
beautiful lock himself away from the world?

"It must be lonely living out here
on your own," I voiced my thoughts.

Pushing strands behind his ears, he
turned to me, a sad smile curling the corner of his mouth. "I'm not alone
any more. I have you, Enzo."

Body cold, my heart clenched. I wanted to
reach out to him. Instead, I curled my fingers around the wine glass.
"Look, buying a slave just so you can have company isn't right. You should
know this."

In the blink of an eye, his expression
shuttered and he stood, turning his back to me. "I may have paid for you.
But I've never treated you like a slave."

True. In the moments when I forgot my life before now—those moments were
becoming too frequent—I felt as if I enjoyed one of those exclusive, luxurious getaways
I'd seen advertised. The only downer remained my inability to leave the island.

He walked a few steps away and turned around.
His eyes blazed, steel blades catching the sunlight. "Who exactly is the
slave? I'm the one who does everything for you." He waved his right hand at
me. "I've even offered my body to you and you rejected me. I—"

"Hang on a minute," I cut him
off, rising to my feet as I returned the glass to the table. Talking to him from
the lower angle reminded me of my weeks with Kazuyo and I didn't like the
feeling of helplessness it brought out. We stood a couple of feet apart. Meeting his gaze at an
equal level, I felt in control. "When exactly did you offer yourself to
me?"

"Every morning after our run I
invite you to the shower," he said in a matter of fact voice.